Exitus Acta Probat
by Nightwolv
Summary: After a failed assignment a Vindicare Assassin goes AWOL. Rating may change to M later on for swearing/gore.


Jonathan Mason slumped into a chair rubbing his head. It had been a long day and he was tired.

_"I really should put some work into this place"_ he muttered to himself looking round the dank room. Bounty hunting paid well but it was also a risky business if he went from a mediocre living condition to a five star accommodation there would be questions. Questions he didn't care to answer. Questions who's answers would most likely get him a one way ticket to the Inquisition for treason, for Mason was no mere bounty hunter.

A life time ago he had been a servant of the Vindicare Temple. The Vindicare Temple was the training grounds for some of the deadliest assassins the Imperium had to offer. The subjects were generally orphan's that no one cared about who were as good as dead on their own anyway. Jonathan had been 8 when the Ordo Assassinourium had found him. Well he'd found them actually.

The place he'd called home as child had been the streets of a planet he was to young to know the name of. Even now Mason couldn't remember it or recognize it on any star-maps. The day had started out normally as a child living on the streets most of his time had been spent looking for food and generally the only way to do that was to steal. That day he was in the crowd of citizens as a man dressed in ornate power armor accompanied by routine of Inquisition bodyguards strode through the streets making his way to the town centre probably to speak with governor of the city. Mason who had no idea who or what an Inquisitor was watched in ore as the golden clad man walked past him. As he did something else caught his eye. A gold medallion hanging from the man's belt. As he had known no better he had picked the medallion from the Inquisitor before the man even noticed his presence and was about to disappear into the crowd when one of the bodyguards spotted him holding the gold object. Mason had been stopped dead as a hand grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and lifted him of the ground.

To this day he didn't know why the Inquisitor had spared him any punishment. He remembered looking into the grey eyes of the man as he bent down to his level and gently took the medallion away from him. Gazing at him curiously. Obviously the man had seen something in Jonathan something even the boy himself couldn't see and rather than have him punished he drafted Mason into the Vindicare Temple which come to think of it may have been his punishment.

The Vindicare Temple boasted the best sharpshooters in the known worlds no-one could match their deadly proficiency with a weapon and there was a reason for this. Every year any number from 300 to 1.000 trainees where accepted and on a good training term maybe 10 survived but it wasn't uncommon for all of them to die during their training. Vindicare Assassins were trained to be emotionless detached killers and their ruthless was feared throughout all the civilizations who were capable of feeling fear. If you were marked by a Vindicare you may as well put a gun to your head and pull the trigger yourself.

During their training the recruits were given no names or aliases of any kind until they were fully-fledged assassins and any form of emotion especially ones deemed useless by the Temple such as compassion or empathy were torn out of them in every considerable way until nothing was left. Nothing but the single minded purpose of killing. So intent were the Vindicare temple on creating the most effective assassins they could that they didn't even teach their men to speak anything other than words that were absolutely necessary which was mainly military lingo. It was not uncommon for a Vindicare assassin to be completely unable to converse in normal situations not just because they were emotionally detached but because they were physically unable to do so.

During the course of his training Mason had come close to death many times. Vindicare training was some of the most intense the Imperium of man had to offer. They trained for 21 hours a day and were given 3 hours sleep. Should the fatigue become too much, the trainers would give the trainees doses of modified adrenaline just to keep them moving and fighting. They trained the recruits in every single form of unarmed and armed combat the Imperium knew and to use every weapon the Vindicare Temple made use of. Gunshot wounds, stab wounds, dismemberment and even poisoning by alien pathogens had been almost a weekly routine during Jonathan's training in these weapons and fighting styles. The Vindicare Temple also boasted some brilliant physicians and medical technology as well as the best sharpshooters. Mason had lost so many limbs and organs he'd lost count but thanks to the technology available to the Ordo Assassinourim regrowing an arm, leg or even a lung was as easy as stitching a wound. As Jonathan flexed his right arm he was fairly sure this was his 8th he couldn't say the same for anything else though.

After the training was complete about 10 years later the man that came out was nothing like the boy who went in. He was cold, calculating, deadly. He couldn't ask for a glass of water but he could recite over 100 ways to kill a Xenos unarmed or the exact locations to hit on every type of armor known to the Imperium that could inflict instant death if shot. After completing his training the next phase in the creation of a Vindicare assassin was biological and cybernetic enhancements. Although the assassins that came out of the training were some of the best trained individual's the Imperium had to offer, being able to take on upward of twenty Imperial Guardsmen on their own they were still human and in a universe beset on all side by heretics and Xenos human simply wasn't good enough.

The surgery had been excruciating but Mason had not even made sound. By that point physical pain had become so prominent he could simply shut it out. By time the all the enhancements were complete Mason had become the panicle of biological perfection. Every muscle was under his command, his physical strength increased tenfold, everyone of his senses were heightened to a superhuman degree but the thing that increased the most were his combat reflexes and speed. Jonathan had always been fast, notably faster than his "classmates" but after the enhancements he was on a completely new level. Even the tech-priests who had performed his enhancements were surprised by the readings. His reaction speed was uncanny at one point he had snatched a bullet out of the air when it was fired at him during a training session.

The Leaders of the Ordo Assassinourium were obviously very pleased with their creation as he learned later on. They had been following his progress with growing intrigue. When it came to giving the oath signalling his acceptance into the Vindicare Assassin guild the very same Inquisitor that had drafted him into the Temple was there to see it. With everything that had happened to him any normal person would have loathed the Inquisitor with every fibre on their being but not Jonathon. Hate was yet another useless emotion that got in the way of a target. He remembered getting down on one knee and reciting the oath. He could still hear the words in his mind as they had been drummed into him for most of his life.

_"Exitus acta probat"_ he murmured the words falling from his lips on instinct as his head fell back in the chair. This translated into the common tongue meant "The end justifies the deed".

After the ceremony he had been presented with the tools of his trade. Although all emotion had been wiped from him he remembered marvelling at the exquisite workmanship that was put into his equipment. the Vindicare Temple had a long standing pact with the Adeptus Mechanicus that required the Adeptus to craft the weapons to perfection for each individual assassin. The stealth suit was made out of modified synskin which was a type of material that hugs the body closely and acts almost like a second skin. The main difference between Vindicare synskin and normal synskin was the fact that it had integrated cybernetics further enhancing his already formidable physical abilities and that it had chameoline-based light receptors. These absorbed light and bent it around the wearer rendering them nigh-invisible to the naked eye.

So particular where the Adeptus in making each Assassin as deadly as possible that they made every weapon and every piece of armor completely in sync with the users gene's. No one but Jonathan could wear this armor and no-one but him could fire those weapons. The Exitus rifle he had been presented was like his suit a marvel of warfare technology. It was made of a titanium alloy that was light and yet had enough weight to use. The barrel of the weapon had omni-harmonic mesh running through the interior rendering shots fired from the weapon completely inaudible. You would have a better chance of hearing a raindrop hitting the ground than you would a shot from an Exitus rifle. The weapon also had an integrated cooler of liquid nitrogen that kept the gun in pristine condition by instantly cooling the weapon as soon as a shot was fired. Thanks to the Mechanicus the rifle's grip adapted to his every movement and even compensated its weight for whenever he breathed. The rifle was like a second limb an extension of himself.

After his training like all Assassins Mason had been an impossibly good shot able to hit a target less than an inch high from almost a mile away with the average sniper rifle. With this weapon though precision took on a whole new meaning.

He was also presented with an Exitus pistol that served as a side arm but could still be fired with deadly accuracy. A pair of knives about 12inches long where also given to him. Although the Vindicare favoured ranged combat in their line of work it was inevitable they would face a close combat confrontation eventually. Much to the surprise of his trainers Mason had become very proficient in close combat especially armed with dual knives and although they weren't keen on the idea of Vindicare who fought in close combat it was still an art of death and all of those arts where encouraged. These knives however where very different from the old shabby ones he'd trained with. They had black handles and the blades gleamed with flawless beauty. The hilts had small power devices implanted into them causing a distortion-field to flow over the blades, which caused them to disrupt matter on a molecular level meaning there was hardly any armor in the galaxy these knives could not cut through and like everything else they were synced to his genes so no-one but himself could activate them.

As breathtaking as he'd found these item's they paled in comparison to the headmask or Death Face as the Vinidacre dubbed them. He remember taking the helm out of the red velvet that encircled it in its case. The red visor of the mask stared back at him invitingly. When he'd placed it on his head it was like seeing a completely new world. Every color was heightened, every movement seen increased to the point that he could see a spider crawling across a leaf from 500meters away. Every single conceivable viable was displayed in front of his eyes everything from his own breathing and pulse rate to the wind direction and strength outside. The mask had an integrated and specially designed Auspex scanner allowing Mason to see almost every light spectrum and energy reading possible from heat and night-vision to the electric impulses emitted by a target's nervous system. Suffice to say once the target had been acquired it would not be easily lost. The helmet also contained water and MRE's (meals ready to eat) that could be fed straight into his mouth via tubes. Assassins could and would sit motionless for days on end stalking their prey waiting for the opportune moment.

Jonathan's eye's shifted briefly towards the vault hidden behind one of the wall panels where those objects currently resided. Having gone AWOL wearing or using any of that equipment was an instant no go. Weapons like that were unique and easily recognized. A man wandering round Treyarch Prime's city streets with that sort of equipment would instantly set off alarm bells.

After he had arrived in the city he'd had trouble keeping under the radar due to his emotionless mannerisms and the fact he seemed only to be able to speak a few words. Luckily the Vinidcare Temple had taught him something else. The perfect predator is invisible no matter the environment and he had taught himself the common tongue which thanks to his enhanced brain had only taken a few days. Emotion on the other hand still eluded him but he had learnt to emulate it as best he could. Although it wasn't great at least he was able to move around unnoticed.

To be honest Jon had no idea what he was doing. The only life he'd ever known had been that which had been dictated to him by the Ordo Assassinourium. The only thing he knew how to do was kill so he became the only thing he could without being noticed and that was a bounty hunter. He still didn't understand why he didn't just return to the Vindicare Temple and accept his execution. He wasn't afraid of dying. Fear was the most useless emotion of all to a member of the Vindicare order and the normal world seemed strange to him. It shouldn't be so damn hard for him to simply go back and accept his fate but instead he made sure to fly under the radar. There were only a select few people who contacted him personally to deliver the target details. People Mason decided could be easily bribed or beaten into submission should they fall out of line.

_"What am I doing?"_ he muttered to himself getting to his feet and making his way towards the bedroom. His reflection in the mirror stopped him dead mainly because he was so detached he always thought his reflection was another person and therefore a threat. As always he fell into an attack stance eyeing the young, light skinned man with hard chiselled features that stared back at him. He quickly realized his mistake as he always did a split-second later. His hair was brown and medium cut so it would not interfere with his aiming down a sniper scope. Dark brown stubble lined his mouth and a pair of chestnut eyes looked back at him curiously. The name Jonathan Mason wasn't even his own. It was simply the first name that had jumped into his head when a Guardsman had questioned him upon his arrival on Treyarch. Turning away from the mirror he slumped backwards onto his bed.

The events that had brought him to this point in time were unusual to say the least.

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**Note:** This is simply something i'm writing when I have nothing else to do so I can't guarantee regular updates on it.


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